


Scratched

by night_is_where_the_romance_is



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/night_is_where_the_romance_is/pseuds/night_is_where_the_romance_is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lula accidentally scratched the back of Jack's jacket. Nothing good can arise from this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratched

"Oh, hell in a hand basket," Lula said, trying to remove the damage. Jack had taught her a new card throwing trick in their spare time, and while he was out with the rest of the guys she had decided to give it a shot on her own.

She was now looking at a scratch that dragged across the entire back of Jack's leather jacket. The one he wore nearly everyday. The one he's had since he was 20. The one that happens to be his favorite.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!" Lula said, scrambling to the laptop in the dining room. She slung the jacket over her shoulder as she frantically typed 'how to remove scratch from leather jacket' into the search bar. "Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!" She yelled, scrolling down the list of not-so friendly advice, which featured gems such as 'buy a new leather jacket', 'pour bleach on it', 'set it on fire', and Lula's favorite, 'sell your soul'.

"Ok, no. Um, what do I do? Ok, wipe it with a soft cloth. That should help, right? Should I put water on it?" The laptop screen was opened to a list of do's and don't's, the headline for the latter being 'NEVER PUT WATER ON ANYTHING LEATHER'. "Guess that answers that question," Lula muttered before wiping the jacket off, going as quickly as she could. The rest of the Horsemen had gone to the bank and a few other choice (meaning boring as hell) places that day, so Lula had opted to hold down the fort at the mansion (big task) and practice her card throwing skills. Was it not a great idea to do so next to Jack's favorite item? Probably. 

The sound of tires skidding on gravel shrieked through the doors where it was etched permanently with the feeling of cold dread tightening in her chest like a fist made of ice, gripping her to stay locked into place. The key jangled in the lock.

"Shit!" Lula cried out, throwing the jacket the first place that popped into her mind: the coat rack. The door opened, and Merritt, Danny, Jack, and Dylan piled in. "Hey, guys," she said in what she hoped was a normal(ish) voice. "How was the bank?" 

"Fine, until Dylan said that we 'weren't allowed to steal anything'," Merritt grumbled, shucking off his jacket and hanging it up next to Jack's. Lula was perched on the dining room table, swinging her legs back and forth as casually as she could. The laptop screen glowed artificial light over the already-sunny room, giving it a strange illumination, the sun, natural and clear, warring with the harshness of the laptop screen's adjustable brightness.

"Been using the laptop, Lula? I thought you swore mine off after, and I quote, 'that thing wanted to murder you in your sleep through pop-up ads'." Dylan said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at was pulled up on the screen. His eyes flicked back and forth from Lula's pleading eyes to the screen, then to where Jack's jacket was hanging on the peg. 

"Is there something you two would like to share with the class?" Merritt said, peering over to what was still pulled up. "Oh ho ho," he chuckled, making the connection quickly. 

"What is it?" Jack said warily, walking over slowly. Fast as lightning, Dylan closed the tabs and cleared the history from the web search bar. 'Thank you,' Lula mouthed to him, still feeling nervous as hell. "Guys, why are you just staring at a blank screen?"

"Um," Lula started, looking anywhere but Jack's face, with the sharp jaw and cheekbones, wide grin, dastardly eyes and defined eyebrows. God, he was gorgeous. It should be illegal for him to look that good, Lula thought as they all waited for a response. "So, please don't be upset," she began, climbing off of the table and backing up incredibly slowly. "But I might have been practicing that card trick you showed me last night, and I may have accidentally scratched the back of your jacket?" Lula's voice went up high at the end, eyes darting back and forth from the coat rack to Jack's face. It normally had at least one emotion scrawled over it, dripping off of him like lazy lines of ink, but when he wanted to he could pull himself into a mask of nothing.

Right now all Lula saw was a mask of nothing.

"Please please please don't hate me!" Lula said, watching his expression like one watched a fast-paced tennis match: without blinking. Somewhere during the time, Danny had slipped off into the shadows, and Merritt had somehow gotten popcorn, which he was now chewing noisily. 

"10 bucks says that Jack gets mad but stops after an hour," he said to Dylan, not at all trying to conceal his voice.

"Really Merritt? Could you not?" Jack said, not stopping his gaze at Lula, who looked like she would rather be melting into the wall at that moment.

"Make it 20," Dylan muttered to Merritt, who nodded, kicking back to watch the show.

"Hey, Lula? Isn't this his jacket?" Danny said, appearing out of nowhere holding Jack's jacket.

"Um, yeah, it is," Jack said, walking over an examining it. "Wait, if this one's mine, whose is that?"

Lula walked over to the jacket hanging on the hook, as did everyone else, watching curiously. "Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, ripping it off of the hook annoyed. "It's my jacket! Son of a bitch!"

"Hey, it's ok," Jack said, walking over to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. The rest of them were trying to hide their snickers and laughter at the pissed-off look on Lula's face. "We can always get another one you know."

"That's not it, I'm just upset because I wasted all that worrying and freaking out over it," she said, rolling her eyes at Merritt, who was digging a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet begrudgingly. 

"Next time Shrike, I'm getting that twenty back."

"Keep thinking that."


End file.
